Phoenix Imagining (Phoenix Prime Collection Book 1)

by Kat Lind

  He hung up the phone and turned off the light. For the first time in a long time, he was relaxed enough to fall immediately to sleep.

  Chapter 6 – Confidence Restored

  Dell woke up feeling refreshed and rested. He had enjoyed a good night’s sleep and was ready for the new day. Getting ready to go, he packed a small bag and opened the bedroom door. The main room of the suite was pristine. Breakfast was waiting for him, and it was, as usual, perfect. Enjoying his breakfast and the perusal of the daily news, the magnate was not pleased when a knock on the door was closely followed by the entry of the hotel manager, Dexter.

  The manager looked curiously at the hotel’s guest. After a second of perusal, he said, “I wish to inform you that your assistant is still in the hospital. It is unclear how long he will be there since his injuries are substantial.”

  “I don’t particularly care. He has not been performing his duties well, and if he is not in place as I need him at the next meeting on Araxis, he is fired. There will be no severance. Additionally, there will be no recommendation because of the poor quality of his work. As far as I’m concerned, I have no responsibility for him and I would suggest that you don’t allow him back in the hotel.”

  The manager’s voice was firm but laden with sad overtones when he replied, “Since the man was injured while working for you, I believe you are liable for his recovery costs. Also, I believe the police wish to speak with you.”

  The calmness of Dell’s day was shattered in that one sentence. Standing up to loom over the manager, Dell found to his surprise that the manager not only didn’t back up but took a step into Dell space forcing the bigger man to move backward.

  “I don’t care what you or your provincial cops want. The man was unacceptable, and I’m not responsible for him. In fact, I fired him before he was injured.”

  Dexter just stared silently at Dell. The weight of the silence once again got through the wall that Dell had built around himself like no other technique would. Feeling his control eroding, Dell jumped to his feet, grabbing his bag and equipment. Still in a rage, the businessman stormed out of the room. Shouting over his shoulder, he said, “You will be sorry that you crossed me. You and yours will regret it to your dying day!”

  Moving quickly, Dell left the hotel and caught a hovercab back to the spaceport. His transport had already been arranged so there was no impediment to his impetuous departure. The gray fog of anger that he carried with him ensured that no one interrupted him on his way to the stateroom.

  Dell threw his bag onto the couch and began to pace around the room. Staying in the stateroom, he continued to pace and mutter to himself until the spaceship departed. His thoughts didn’t seem to have any coherent path. Instead, they were scattered and incomplete, indecisive and chaotic. There was no plan, no strategy. For the first time in Dell’s life, he was unsure of what he was going to do. Instead of an objective, he had an emotion, one that cried out for a stronger voice.

  Finally, the confines of the room became too much for Dell. Quickly, without specific thought, he left the stateroom and went to the general bar area. Sitting down, he demanded a drink and was served immediately. The obedience to demand that the bartender exhibited took a little edge off of Dell’s agitation. He might even have calmed down further if the Captain had not approached him at that point.

  “I understand that your assistant is not with you this time. Unfortunately, because you did not cancel the reservation you will be charged the full amount.”

  “That is ridiculous! There is no reason I should pay for that incompetent fool. Send the bill to him! He still back on Bredal as far as I know.”

  “Regrettably, company policy is very rigid on this matter. You will be charged the full amount of the ticket. In fact, it has already been deducted from your credit balance.”

  “You can’t do this! I will have your job! And your company will fire you.”

  The Captain regarded the shouting man with a disdainful eye. Dell could feel the lack of respect and the refusal to acknowledge the businessman as the dominant in their interaction. The knowledge that the man was outside of his control rubbed nerves already raw with unaccustomed failure. Dell stood up, shaking in every limb.

  “Security!” said the Captain. His voice snapped out like the crack of a whip, and two large men materialized on either side of the captain. In a more normal tone, the Captain continued, “I believe that Master Howard is in the process of retiring to his stateroom. Please ensure he gets there immediately and that he is undisturbed for the balance of the trip. When we land on Abraxis, since his assistant is not with him, I’m sure that he would welcome your assistance in disembarking.” With that, the captain turned and left the bar area.

  Dell was fuming. The two behemoths from ship security had all but dragged him back to his stateroom. Being sent to his room like a misbehaving child was pouring salt on the wound to his ego. Deep down inside, Dell could not accept anything but a clear win. This additional embarrassment was more than he could take. Avoiding sleep, the infuriated man spent the remainder of the trip plotting on how to get back at the captain. His dreams of bloody revenge were somehow nourishing him, leaving him with a dark satisfaction and a cackle of twisted amusement.

  <<<>>>

  Landfall was a pain. Dell was embarrassed and infuriated when the security people made a point of taking him off the ship first. It did mean that he was among the first to go through customs but without the assistance of an attendant, Dell did not have the slightest idea of what forms were necessary to pass customs. Although he was one of the first people at the customs desk, the missing paperwork caused a significant delay. The lack of the paperwork also flagged him for a deeper inspection of his goods. When he attempted to remonstrate with the customs agents, there was a very different response than the first time he had been through this area. Instead of being apologetic for delaying him, the senior agents ignored his ranting and raving, his threats and intemperate speech. It was as if he didn’t count and the overwhelming pressure of anger within Dell froze. Like a volcano that was ready to erupt, Dell was a time bomb, waiting to go off.

  Finally, he made it through customs. There was no apology issued for the delay. No one even wished him good speed or a welcome to their planet. They simply turned their back on him and ignored him like he was the lowest scum on earth. All that Dell could think of was, How dare they!

  Snatching his luggage, Dell moved through the crowds toward the exit of the spaceport in a fog of anger, illuminated with the lightning of sheer rage. He grabbed the first hovercab available and directed it to take him to the Hotel Babylonia.

  It seemed like just the next second that they were there and the cab driver was asking for payment. Dell started to turn and demand that Mark take care of the man when he realized that Mark wasn’t there. “I guess I’ll have to get a new administrative assistant,” he muttered to himself as he paid the driver.

  “Maybe somebody better looking and female. That might have advantages too.”

  The strong feeling of déjà vu was back as Dell marched through the door into the hotel. The man at the desk looked up and walked around to meet their returning guest. He handed Dell the access pass to the room, but turned and walked back to the desk without saying a word.

  This was just one more thing to chalk up to the sins that the hotel needed to pay for. Dell could feel the blood pounding in his temples, and the shaking of his hands was increasing. Some small vestige of survival told him that this was not the place to vent his rage. Instead, he would go to the room and relax. He would plan his campaign of revenge, and reduce those that had thwarted, embarrassed, and resisted him until they were dead and forgotten. He would reduce them to nothing.

  It probably was a tactical error to return to this room. As soon as Dell closed the door and turned to survey the room, all the emotional intensity of his embarrassment and frustration which had occurred on this planet crashed back on top of him. Dropping his bag onto the bed, Dell b
egan to pace.

  Back and forth he walked, reliving his moments of failure and embarrassment. The tidal wave of black anger and pent-up emotion crested higher and higher. He saw the wave, he could feel it coming, but there was no way to avoid it.

  Standing there watching the wave come over his head and start to descend onto his body, Dell screamed in defiance, “Bring it on!”

  Like a bolt of lightning, like the blow from a large whip, Dell felt a massive pain in his chest. It was as if someone had punched him in the heart. The throbbing in his temples culminated in one huge explosion of pain and color, and he felt himself falling.

  Reduced to desperate fear, Dell reached out unresponsive arms for help. But there was no one there. Alone, abandoned by choice, the explosion that Dell had planned for others consumed him.

  Epilogue

  The funeral was sparsely attended. There was no family or friend in the chapel. Only three men in dark suits sat as the chaplain on duty said the universal funeral ceremony for Dell Jackson Howard. There was no one to deliver a eulogy, no one to mention a life of celebration. The absence of the normal connections with society was starkly obvious.

  Once the ceremony was over, the three men walked out of the room together. One of them moved stiffly as if he were recovering from a major injury. The other two were very different in appearance but very similar in attitude. The serenity and calmness that radiated off of them were comforting to be around, and the recovering man took solace from it.

  After they had walked for a short while, he said, “I wish I could have done something to help. To change this path.”

  The taller of the other two said, “You did all that you could. There is always a place where you have to decide if you cannot save someone.”

  Thinking about that statement, the three of them walked for a few more minutes. Finally, the smallest of the three asked the injured man, “Mark, we understand that you are at liberty to accept other employment at this point.”

  Mark gave a short bitter laugh and responded, “Muranu, you might say that. I’m unemployed. Do you know anyone who needs an executive assistant that is not in tip-top physical form?”

  Muranu responded, “I believe that Dexter has a proposal for you. I hope that you will take him up on it.”

  Mark looked questioning toward the manager of the Hotel Mesopotamia but waited to hear what he would say.

  With a faint smile on his face, Dexter asked, “Have you ever thought about working in the hospitality field? It just so happens that we have a position that’s opened up and I think you would fill it very well.”

  Mark caught his breath in surprise. The injudicious action sent a stab of pain through his entire torso, bringing tears to his eyes and causing a faint wave of dizziness to pass over him. He stopped in place and took careful breaths for a few minutes. When he could talk again, he answered Dexter with his heart in his eyes, “Nothing would make me happier than to work with you. You saved my life and have shown me a field in which I think I can make a difference.”

  Dexter smiled that serene grin that had so infuriated Dell. It was an expression of the calmness of his heart and the awareness that he knew exactly who he was and what he did. He asked, “Are you available to start immediately?”

  The blinding grin on Mark’s face was the only answer he needed.

  <<<>>>

  It seemed like just a moment between the acceptance of the job and when they were back at the Hotel Babylonia. Muranu waved goodbye and headed for the front desk. It had not occurred to Mark before now that he was on Araxis instead of Bredal. He didn’t remember the transport here but knew that he had not been terribly aware of anything after his injuries.

  Dexter waved goodbye to the receptionist and took Mark by his upper arm. Leading the way over to the door marked “Staff Only” the older man escorted Mark through the door and closed it. Mark saw a peculiar hallway in front of him. It extended further than he thought would fit into the hotel and had glowing doors on either side of the walkway. Moving confidently down the hall, Dexter stopped briefly in front of the door marked with the icon of the hotel Mesopotamia. Grinning like a small boy, Dexter opened the door and walked through. Mark could see his new boss waiting for him on the other side of the doorway and followed him. The door shut with the normal light click of sound.

  Mark turned to look behind him and saw that he was facing a door marked with the symbol of the Hotel Babylonia. A whirlwind of confusion spun around in Mark’s mind. Unrelated facts now seemed to find anchor points, and his understanding of past events started to rearrange. Numbly following Dexter, the two of them emerged from the hallway behind the desk of the Hotel Mesopotamia.

  Standing there in a bemused fog, Mark heard Dexter ask Evelyn, “How is everything going? Is there anything that you need assistance with?”

  Evelyn’s warm smile of welcome encompassed both men as she answered, “As usual, everything is just fine. Welcome back home!”

  Introduction - A HOLE Workday

  This talented Phoenix Prime author examines the dynamics of government and bureaucracy, set in an engrossing setting and spiced up with humor and acerbic wit.

  A HOLE Workday

  by B B Kern

  The Home Office Licensed Extermination (HOLE) Agency was in chaos. Clients paced the crowded reception area, senior staff were AWOL, and Scotto, some buffoon from supply, was on speaker phone extolling the virtues of a properly executed TPR–12 form.

  HOLE Head Agent Lynn Katt willed her tepid coffee to transform into the nectar of the gods–a refreshing dram of single malt scotch. Alas, it was not to be. Lynn often wished for nothing in particular and everything in general. Government jobs held little glamor and offered many annoyances. But the pay was steady, the benefits were adequate, and sometimes a job well done was appreciated. Sometimes, not so much.

  “Excuse me, what exactly is the TPR–12 form?” Asked Lynn, who was a bit miffed that she didn’t recognize such a vital form. She was also agitated that someone’s carelessness resulted in this call from Scotto. Every time she got on the phone with one of the desk jockeys, it taxed her patience to the extreme. Getting a straight, coherent answer from them was like trying to catch fairy dust with a sieve.

  “It’s a crucial form. I can’t stress enough the absolute imperativeness of properly completing the TPR—12. Misdirected shipments can result in serious delays. Do you realize the problems that can ensue from the untimely delivery of indispensable products?” The buffoon’s voice rose steadily from a low-pitched gravelly monotone to an annoying level of squeak.

  “Got it. The TPR—12 is vital to the smooth operation of the agency. Rest assured, Mr. Scotto, we take this matter seriously and will strive to eradicate any deficiencies on our end. Please refresh my memory, the TPR—12 is used to order what particular supplies?” asked Lynn.

  The buffoon’s exasperation increased resulting in unnaturally breathy stammered squeakiness. “It’s the standard request for a dozen rolls of toilet paper, the Toilet Paper Request—12 units. Please refrain from ordering 12 cases when 12 units will suffice. Each case contains 12 individual units, and that’s a GROSS!” When squeaky buffoon’s voice elevated to a crescendo, the waiting room went silent.

  Apparently, the TPR—12 form was not to be taken lightly. The formerly silent citizens, however, thought otherwise. Lynn heard the first snickers followed closely by excessive giggles. She had to get off the phone before a full-blown guffaw festival spontaneously erupted.

  “We sincerely apologize for our gross negligence. No more ordering 12 cases when 12 units will suffice. Got it. I appreciate the utmost dedication you exhibited in conducting this investigation into what is most certainly a grievous mishandling of agency protocol. Please accept our apologies. We vow to exceed agency standards in the future by completing the TPR-12 in an accurate and timely manner.” Lynn couldn’t end the call fast enough—the frivolity in the waiting room was heading toward “out of control.”

  “Thank you
, Agent Katt. I truly appreciate your understanding of this predicament. I’m only trying to ensure the agency has the resources and the supplies necessary to achieve peak performance. Excuse me, but it sounds like you’re celebrating some monumental event. I’m so sorry to interrupt. Gosh, I love parties. I love party hats, party music, and, most importantly, party snacks. But I never leave the office. Well, if you have additional concerns regarding the TPR—12, please contact me directly. I’m happy to assist your staff in every way when it comes to expediting the TPR—12 or any other form. Have a good time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scotto. Next time we hold a soiree, I’ll be sure to invite you. Goodbye.” The speaker phone clicked off just as the office crowd erupted into gut-wrenching laughter intermingled with the occasional belly snort. Lynn chortled before asking her assistant for the next client’s file.

  In the good old days, forest denizens handled disagreements between themselves without government interference. Wrong-doer punishments ran the gamut from simple broom beatings to total annihilation by excess, so to speak. Petty criminals were battered by bristles while more serious criminals were forced to endure lunch. More specifically, they were forced to be lunch.

  The defining criteria of offense seriousness rose in direct proportion to the hunger pang level of the wronged. It came as no surprise to anyone that the laws changed following the last election when squirrels took control over the Safe Habitat Owed Every Species (SHOES) Council. A new agency, HOLE, was formed to ensure that citizens with genuine complaints could seek retribution.

  Agent Katt reviewed the case file for the next customer, Mrs. Stone Hedgehog. It seems her husband had recently taken up gambling, which was a minor crime unless it adversely affected the family structure for the given species. In this case, Mrs. Hedgehog was convinced her husband was addicted. He was gambling away crucial family assets upon which she and the children relied. The SHOES Council frowned on citizens endangering the happiness of family units.